


How Could I Be So Blind?

by Angelphoenixwings14



Series: First I was Blind, and Now I See [1]
Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Aftermath, F/M, Feelings Realization, Trauma, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-22 20:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelphoenixwings14/pseuds/Angelphoenixwings14
Summary: Takes place between 2x11 "Day of Death" and 2x12 "Now and Then".  One-Shot, but may write more depending on everyone's interest/if the show inspires me further.Rated Mature for language and sexual tension I didn't resolve at all.  I'm so sorry.
Relationships: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Series: First I was Blind, and Now I See [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663783
Comments: 18
Kudos: 181





	How Could I Be So Blind?

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so I fell into Chenford fucking hard after the last few episodes, and so here I am writing this One-Shot when I should be working on my novel of a friggen fanfic for Knives Out lmao (don't worry anyone who's following that as well, new chapter is coming soon. I just needed to get this out of my system with the obsession that came on hard and fast). This idea came to me off a comment of how Tim stayed all night in the hospital with Lucy, and then the canon left us wondering if he hadn't seen her for weeks until she returned (seems unlikely with how freaking worried he remained once she got back). I took a stab at writing what I thought might happen in the time-skip of Lucy's recovery.

Tim didn’t think about Lucy. Not often, not really. A fleeting thought here or there, maybe, based on some random nuance of the day or comment that stuck with him a little longer than usual. But outside of the job and when he had to listen to her voice to study his audiobooks, she didn’t exist in his life.

Now, he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about her.

Everything felt different. Holding that opal ring in his hands, he felt like it reflected a whole new light on… _everything_. Lucy’s cheeky little smiles, the way she bounced on her heels any time she knew she did something right, how her brow wrinkled any time he said something particularly blunt or insensitive. He thought of how long she’d spent helping him with Isabel, fighting for him to keep his honorable service plaque, what it meant that she’d put in all the effort to push past his insecurities and give him a recording of his study books in her voice. 

She’d almost died, and he’d just barely been able to save her.

He had - _they_ had - and now she had to recover.

It had been a week.

He tried not to let it get to him, but anxiety relentlessly clawed at his stomach and flooded his mind with incessant thoughts. His knee bounced rapidly, restlessly, as he stared at that ring. The object symbolized the difference between life and death. She’d dropped it, proving her intelligence. He’d spotted it, a sign of his attentiveness to every detail, even under stress. It was a literal symbol of their success. It just felt so… incomplete.

A weight crushed into his chest, and before he could think better of it, he shoved up from his couch and grabbed his truck keys. He couldn’t spend the rest of his day off fretting in this way, so he did the stupidest thing imaginable and drove to Lucy’s apartment building. He had no plan, no real thought outside of needing to see her. He hadn’t since the hospital and it was driving him more than a little insane.

Only when he knocked on her apartment door did he realize how absolutely dumb this was.

He sucked in a breath, eyes going a little wide as he calculated what lapse in reality had lead him to this moment, when the door jerked open. Lucy stood, her head cocked and brows furrowing swiftly. Beautiful, wavy hair dangled down in front of the gray academy shirt she had on, cotton shorts exposing a _whole_ lot more leg than he was used to seeing on her. Long, smooth, sculpted legs.

His lips parted a little, eyes dumbly trained on her face. An unexpected, confused smile quirked her own lips.

“Tim? What are you doing here?”

“Uhhh, it’s my day off,” he stammered, still unable to think of something better. Lucy huffed, her face scrunching peculiarly, a hint of amusement coating her confusion.

“Yeah?” Her face fell a moment later, and she straightened up a little as she realized what this might be. Shifting in her doorway, she bowed her head and hugged the door into her side a little harder. “You didn’t have to check up on me. I’m fine,” she stated curtly. Her long hair helped shroud her face, and she hoped to god with Tim’s annoying level of awareness that he couldn’t hear how loudly her heart beat from the bold-faced lie. Jackson wasn’t home, and she didn’t want him to know she’d been pacing the empty apartment for an hour with no idea what to do with herself.

Luckily, he still couldn’t get his brain to function, and found himself lamely blurting, “Whu- yeah, I know. I just.” He stopped short, his own head bowing as heat threatened to sting his cheeks and he stuffed his hands in his pockets to try and give him some stability in the moment. It was only then he felt the bulbous, cool features of the ring he hadn’t realized he’d pocketed this whole time. Throat going dry, he stared at the floor in a state of panic (concealing it as much as his stone-cold expression could make it), not realizing Lucy had lifted her eyes to his face and discovered something of her own.

He _wasn’t_ fine.

He’d come to check on her more for his sake than her own, just like he’d stayed in the hospital with her longer than he rightfully should have. Visibly softening against the door, she forced a smile and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “You wanna come in? I was going to get takeout,” she commented lightly, and decided he didn’t need to know that was a decision she’d made right this second. He lifted his eyes, now widened with a bit of hope he immediately tried to quash.

“Sure,” he agreed, his voice a little higher pitched than he’d like. He forced himself to walk into the apartment slowly, eyes scanning it the way he would any foreign residence he might walk into on the job. “Is Jackson here?”

“No. He’s spending the day with his beau,” Lucy murmured, her brows lifting a little. Tim’s expression flattened as he twisted around to look at her, clearly displeased. Despite having felt a little sour being left alone in the beginning, she immediately grew defensive for her roommate. “I don’t need a babysitter twenty-four/seven,” she protested, for _all_ their sakes. She needed this to be over already, and for everyone to move on with their lives, even if they were all clearly not ready yet. Tim proved it by rolling his eyes, and Jackson was going to get a frightening lecture their next shift together.

“You want Chinese?” Lucy redirected.

“Sure,” Tim agreed, his eyes catching lower as Lucy walked across the room and into her kitchen. He’d seen her in civilian clothes before, but never so casually, effortlessly beautiful. He swallowed imperceptibly and averted his eyes while she dug in a drawer for a takeout menu. She let it plop on the kitchen counter to look over for a few moments, arms folded neatly together beneath her chest. He didn’t realize he’d started monitoring her again until his detailed vision caught how her gray shirt pointed outward in two distinctive, sensual peaks.

Tim Bradford was a professional cop, and for once in his life actually steadily getting some action. So why on earth did he suddenly struggle to pull in a steady breath?

 _What the fuck, Tim?_

“Are you going to come look at the menu?” Lucy asked without lifting her head. One hand idly massaged her neck beneath her wild curtain of hair before she added, “I don’t bite.” He blinked, and noticed she sounded… tired, resigned. He walked toward her, slowly twisting to stand at her side. He tipped his head to look over the menu for a moment, the odd tension he felt dissipated for the moment as he found himself wondering about her well being again. Setting his finger to the menu over the item he wanted, he gave it a distinctive tap.

“Kung Pao Chicken,” he called aloud. Lucy huffed, a smile curving her lips as she tipped her head back to look up at him.

“Let me guess, because it has the word _pow_ in the name?”

“What do you take me for, the fifties version of Batman?”

“Oh, no,” Lucy scoffed, leaning up from the counter, “he was much cooler than you are.” In rare form, Tim cracked a smile and huffed, happy to see her banter with him again, even in this weak manner. She stared at him for a long moment, and he stared back, and she suddenly seemed to realize – while not _immodest_ , she was in one of her skimpier pajamas where her T.O. was fully dressed in jeans, a dark shirt, and an open plaid button up. And she wasn’t wearing a fucking _bra_!

“Uhhh… I’m gonna go call our order in,” she said, voice wavering. She rubbed her neck once more before escaping to her bedroom to find her phone and a goddamn bra. When she returned, still looking somewhat resigned, Tim felt a million words bubble up to his lips, but none of them felt right. He didn’t come here to have a pity party for himself and confess how sorry he was, that he felt semi responsible for what had happened, or share how he’d been the one to save her. He came to check on how she was doing.

He came to convince himself she was still alive.

The cuts that had been so red and angry against her face that day were healing over well, but the wounds inside reflected how deep and fresh they still ran by how dull her eyes remained. Noticing the bra she’d put on for his behalf finally prompted him to say, “Look, I didn’t mean to crash your recoup time. If you’d prefer I go, just say so, but… whatever else you had planned to do today, if you want some company…” _Wow_. No matter what he said, he just felt like an idiot. Lucy bounced on her feet a little, but it was a nervous, slight little movement – not the big, elongated rolls she made in her confidence. It twisted his heart a little.

“I didn’t have much planned.”

“That’s okay. There’s, uh, a game on-“ _wait, no_ \- “or, uh _Real Housewives?_ ” Brows lifted, Lucy snorted at him incredulously.

“As much as I’d love to see Tim Bradford watch _The Real Housewives_ , I could do with something a little more stimulating,” she teased, earning another dazzling grin from her T.O. 

“Thank God,” he huffed, the smile lingering long enough that Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. Oh _no_.

“Do you want a beer?” Lucy asked, suddenly needing one herself to cool down, despite still wearing her shorts. She was already halfway to the refrigerator when Tim agreed. Uncapping both, she took a swig of her own before twisting around and handing his across the kitchen counter. He held it up for a moment in salute, before opening his jaw and glugging it toward the back of his throat. It had his Adam’s apple bobbing graciously, and why the hell was _that_ so attractive?

“Two truths and a lie?” she chirped thoughtlessly.

“Sorry?”

“Have you _never_ played two truths and a lie?”

“Of course I’ve played. Cops practically invented that game,” Tim griped, not at _all_ knowing if that were true or not, but he had the bravado to sell it. “You saying you want to play _that_ right now?”

“Yeah. Why not? Loser each round has to take a sip of beer,” she goaded, finally perking up in a more Lucy-like manner. Tim chuffed, shaking his head as if in disappointment. “Hey,” she chided, “you said whatever I want.”

“No. I said whatever you had _planned_.”

“Well, now I’m planning this.” He rolled his eyes at her.

“Fine. You go first.” It was a good way to see where her head was at. She nodded thoughtfully, swaying almost in a dance as she moved toward the couch and sunk into a seat. He followed her, easing himself into one of the single chairs to the side of the coffee table. 

“I was born the Year of the Horse, my favorite color is olive, and my first car was a patched together ‘95 Dodge Neon,” she rattled off. Alright, so upbeat, casual. He could do that… maybe. He narrowed his eyes on her, fingers idly tapping his knees as he thought.

“The car’s the lie,” he theorized, his eyes narrowed as Lucy widened her own.

“How’d you know?!”

“You wear olive a lot. You were banking on me not knowing the zodiac sign, so that was an obvious false choice… ergo, the car,” he explained, smirking a little. She blinked realizing he noticed a color she wore often, but managed to humph at him for guessing right and took a swig of her beer to hide any further awe on the sentiment. “What was it really?”

“Ninety-six,” she corrected her detail about the car, causing Tim to laugh. As guided, he kept it light, stupid little details that kept their mind off the obvious elephant in the room. Even when the food came, they kept the game up, chatting through bites of food, a small collection of bottles now scattered atop the coffee table. They’d shifted seats, Lucy on the floor so she could bow over the coffee table, and Tim occupying her former seat on the couch. He kept his tin tray in hand as he worked the contents toward empty. His fork hovered in the air as he thought over the three comments to say for his turn.

“I like grilling. I set a grenade off at boot camp once, and… oh, yeah. Your Chinese place? Two-two- four Adam’s Ave? I busted the previous owners for laundering and petty gambling.”

“What? Nuh-uh.”

“You callin’ me a liar?” 

“Oh, no. The great straight-and-narrow Tim Bradford doing _that_ in boot camp? No way, that one’s the lie,” she chided humorously, shaking her head. He laughed, grinning delightfully as he leaned nearer to her.

“It’s not actually,” he teased. Her eyes widened, impossibly bright.

“You didn’t.”

“I did. It was a dud, and a test I got reamed out for.” The laugh that earned him nearly had his heart soaring, a gracious smile lingering on his lips as Lucy took another swig of her beer until another was emptied. Her cheeks had a rosy glow to them, and she swayed a little in her seat to give her the momentum to rise. 

“That-“ she said while pointing a finger, her other hand trying to collect another bottle to start disposing of some item – “is something you’re never going to live dow- _oh_!” She yipped as she tipped a little too far to her side in the midst of rising, and fell onto the couch instead of making it to her feet. Tim shifted quickly, bringing his arm up to brace her from completely toppling over.

“You alright?” he asked, a laugh stuck in the back of his throat. Lucy’s weight sank against his arm, her hair tickling at his exposed forearm as he pressed against her back.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, managing to sit up properly with his assistance. "Sorry. That was..." she trailed off, shaking her head at herself. His arm lingered against the curve of her spine, her body still leaning a little toward his as she stared at the coffee table and gained her bearings. She tilted her head and looked up at him, a twinkle having found its way back to her eyes for the moment. His breath caught, though he felt her own ghost over his lips with how close her cheek was to his shoulder. Her eyes flickered over his face, and he found his own drawing toward her plump lips. 

A strand of hair stuck to it, and his fingers thoughtlessly massaged up the wavy tendrils teasing down toward his arm. Removing his grip from her mass of hair, her carefully caressed his fingers toward her brow, both brushing her hair aside and letting him see the still healing slash along her cheek. His thumb swiped beneath it before he could stop himself, a heavy weight lodging in his throat. Lucy’s lashes fluttered, and she sucked in a breath as she lifted her chin up to study his eyes more intently. He felt gravity pull him down- 

-And then the world shifted with a very loud _click_.

They both startled away from each other, Tim’s eyes shooting up to the door as it opened and Jackson walked in with a cheery smile. “Heeeeey, roomie – oh! Officer Bradford?” he sang, before confusion took his expression and he cocked his head a little in question. 

“Yeah,” Tim chirped, his nerves rattling up his throat a little as he sunk back against the couch and cleared his throat. His heart hammered in his chest, and the nervous breath Lucy sucked in her chest as she hastily collected a few bottles and lifted from the couch proved her own. They were both reeling, too stunned by the lingering charge in the air to feel strange or guilty _just_ yet. It would come though, and Tim knew it. It lead him in lifting from the couch himself and admitting, “I was just about to head out, actually.” His hands clapped against his jeans uselessly as he glanced toward Lucy, a slight smile quirking his lips. He felt a little easier once she returned it.

“Oh. Well, alright,” Jackson shrugged, setting his own bag of groceries down on the counter. As Tim approached the door, he paused and glowered at Jackson until his cheery demeanor diminished some. It was a warning of what was to come, and Tim didn’t leave until he knew fear lingered within his friend’s rookie. He almost smirked, but turned toward Lucy and found himself at a loss of what to say again.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he settled on, nodding to her once curtly. Her lips quivered in a smile, and she gave him a single, sharp nod back. Reluctant as he was to leave, with one last glance back at Jackson, he gripped the door and drew it closed behind him, heading down the hall with haste in his step. Settled as his original concerns were, he had new, jarring ones to consider that left his bones rattled and his veins jittery. He didn’t know what the hell had happened, and no one could blame him after the events that had unfolded after the last couple weeks. 

He knew one thing though. He couldn’t see her again until this whole thing blew over.


End file.
